The rain had started just as the event wrapped up.
It wasn't the kind of light drizzle that whispered over the city — this was a steady downpour, the kind that turned smooth asphalt into mirrors and sent even the most graceful women scrambling for shelter in stilettos.
Stephanie stood under the hospital's front awning, her jacket draped over her head, clutching her phone as she dialed Katherine again.
No answer.
The last bus had left fifteen minutes ago. Her phone battery blinked red at 5%. And her best friend — who promised to pick her up — was either asleep or had her phone buried under a pile of sketchbooks again.
Typical.
She glanced down the steps at the valet circle. Most of the VIP guests had already left, sliding into sleek black sedans or luxury SUVs with tinted windows. But one car remained — matte black, low to the ground, and definitely expensive.
A driver in a fitted cap held an umbrella over someone stepping into the rain.
Her heart skipped.
Raymond.
Dressed in a dark three-piece suit, his coat now slung over one arm, he was speaking into his phone as he approached the car. The storm didn't seem to bother him — the rain slid down his slicked-back hair and sharp jawline like he was made for it. The kind of man who looked like he belonged in a scene like this: powerful, untouchable, wrapped in expensive shadows.
Stephanie turned her face away.
She didn't need his help. She would walk if she had to. Get soaked. Catch a cold. Anything but ask him for a ride.
"Are you seriously going to wait there till morning?" a voice cut through the rain.
She looked up. He was staring at her from a few steps away, his expression unreadable beneath the soft golden glow of the hospital entrance lights.
"Your driver's waiting," she said flatly.
He glanced at the Rolls Royce behind him. "He has nowhere better to be."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'll be fine."
"You look like you're freezing."
"I can walk."
He scoffed. "In those shoes? In this rain? Don't be stupid."
She bristled. "I'm not stupid."
"Then stop acting like it," he said, a little too sharply.
The silence between them tightened. She opened her mouth to reply — to snap back — but he beat her to it.
"Get in. I'm not offering again."
Stephanie hesitated. Pride screamed for her to walk away, but her soaked sneakers and tired legs argued louder.
"Fine," she muttered.
He turned and walked toward the car without looking back. The driver quickly opened the rear door, and she slid in after Raymond.
The inside was warm. Leather seats. The scent of woodsy cologne and something expensive she couldn't name. The divider was already up — they were alone.
The car pulled into traffic, and for a long moment, neither of them said anything. The soft hum of the engine was the only sound.
She crossed her arms and leaned toward the window, watching the rain blur the city lights into streaks of gold and red.
"Where do you live?" he asked finally.
Notting hill District. Near the university campus."
He tapped a command to the driver.
More silence.
Stephanie glanced sideways. He was staring straight ahead, jaw tight, gaze unreadable.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked.
His lips curved slightly. "You do enough for both of us."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be civil."
He smirked faintly but didn't reply.
Another few minutes passed. She shifted in her seat, suddenly aware of how close they were. The car wasn't small, but he filled the space — his presence, his silence, the way he occupied the air like he owned it.
"Why were you watching me earlier?" she asked.
His head turned. Slowly. Intentionally.
"You're not like the others," he said.
Stephanie blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It means…" he paused, as if choosing his words. "You don't care who I am."
"I know who you are," she replied.
"But it doesn't affect you."
She frowned. "Why would it?"
His expression tightened, almost like that answer frustrated him.
"Exactly," he muttered under his breath.
The car rolled to a gentle stop. She looked out — her street, lit by dim street lamps and puddle reflections.
"Thank you," she said, reaching for the door handle.
"Don't read into it," Raymond said coolly.
She froze.
"I don't offer charity rides out of kindness," he continued. "I just didn't want your name making headlines for passing out on hospital steps."
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. "You're still arrogant."
"And you're still annoying," he replied.
A pause. Then a quiet smile pulled at the corner of her lips.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, stepping out into the rain.
He watched her walk away — jacket over her head again, shoulders straight, chin lifted.
Strange.
There was something about her that didn't make sense.
And for someone who always planned three moves ahead... that made her dangerous.